Broken
by LiveandBreatheWords
Summary: "Kill or die. Fast pacing. Say goodbye. Heart racing. Is winning these Games worth losing myself in the process? Is the fame, the fortune, worth paying the price afterwards? But most of all, is it worth losing him?" Volunteered as tribute for the 74th annual Hunger Games alongside with the boy she loves, she knows that getting him out safety will require the ultimate sacrifice. AU.
1. The Reaping

**Authors Note:**

**Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Here is chapter one, hope you enjoy it. As always, questions, comments, or suggestions are welcome. R&R please and you'll become my new best friend! And thanks so much to those who were concerned about my brother, he is feeling a little better, which is better than nothing.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**And thanks so much to my beta TheGirlWithTheSilverTongue!**

**~Bree**

**Important authors note at the end. Check out my YouTube channel too! I posted a video asking you guys how excited are you for the Hunger Games release?**

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><p><em>"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."<em>

_~Alfred Lord Tennyson_

Chapter 1: The Reaping

I wake up to find sunlight peaking through the curtains. I turn my head, expecting to find my little sister Prim but only finding emptiness. I look over to my mother's bed, and, sure enough, there she is. Prim doesn't have nightmares often, and even if she did, I would at least wake up and calm her down. But not last night. I didn't hear a sound. Suddenly, a thought occurs.

Today is the day of the reaping.

I stretch, in no rush to begin the day. The reaping isn't until the afternoon, so most people here decide to sleep in. That's luxury not many can afford to pay. Sleeping in means missing work, and that for some could mean no food on the table. I slip on my father's old hunting boots. I can still remember the days we would go into the woods, all the times we would spend together. Many people had respected my father, despite him being from the Seam. When he died, it was a tragedy that struck the whole town.

I dress in a gray shirt and trousers, grabbing my forage bag and a cap. A braid that usually runs down my back is now tucked in. I am about to step out of the room when I hear a hiss. I look down and find that I almost stepped on the world's ugliest cat.

I remember the day when Prim brought him home, how I nearly killed him. But she begged, cried, I had to agree. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her, and if it means adding a member to the family, then so be it. She named him Buttercup, though I do not see how to the creature before me resembles the flower.

I walk around him and continue. Sitting on the table under a wooden bowl is goat cheese wrapped up in basil leaves. I frown at the thought of Prim waking up to milk her goat just for me. I slip the cheese into my pocket and head outside.

It feels strange not seeing anyone heading to work. I try not to notice how all the doors are locked, the shutters are drawn tight. It only brings back nightmares, but that is little in comparison to having watched the Hunger Games.

I pass several gates until I reach the Meadow. A place that, during summer, has wildflowers growing on every corner. District 12 does not have much beauty to admire, which is what makes everyone believe the Meadow is a treasure. I used to enjoy coming through here, perhaps even resting for a few moments on the soft green grass. But now, it only brings back memories of my father. Memories I cannot afford to deal with at night. I miss him, I really do. But if I try to go back to the past, I will only suffer.

Finally, I reach the fence that separates the woods from District 12. Though they are illegal to enter, many of the guards we call Peacekeepers turn a blind eye. It is one of the few benefits we receive. As long as we meet the Capitol's coal needs, the Capitol leaves us alone. Our citizens have a closer bond, but some merchants still don't trust a few from the Seam. The fence is supposed to be electrified every hour of every day, but due to the fact we get two to three hours of electricity a day, your chances of getting electrocuted are incredibly slim. I gently lie on the ground, already sliding under the wire.

I look around, making sure nobody can see me. Even here, you have to be careful. I then grab a bow and a sheath of arrows from a hollow log. My father crafted each of them with his own hands. He was skilled at many things, but the woods were his territory. He had a connection with nature, something even from someone as close to him as me, can never describe. It was hard to move on, especially after his death. Prim got through it, and my mother, with the help of medication, beat the odds. I don't know if I am over it, or if I have just gotten used to the pain.

It's all because of them, I think, all because of the Capitol.

The Capitol, the ruling city of Panem. The creators of the Hunger Games, a fight to the death on live television. Children between the ages of twelve and eighteen must compete, one boy and one girl from each District. Twelve districts, twenty-four tributes, and only one makes it out alive. The outcome from the uprising that all began with District 12. The Capitol said that as for punishment, they would not harm the rebels, instead, they would harm their children.

The worst part? We are required to watch it, every gruesome death. Sometimes it is too much to handle. We are meant to treat it as a festivity, something to get excited about. And in the Capitol, they do. Nobody is at risk of losing their lives, nobody is fighting starvation there. They have everything.

But we don't. Parents could lose their children, and that pain is the worst kind. My stomach churns at the thought of who will get picked this year. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. Why worry about what's in store later? I am on my way to a spot that makes me feel safe, that somehow makes me feel whole again. But it isn't just the sight of it, it is the sight of a person, the sight of my best friend that lets me relax. When I see him, I smile.

"Hey, Catnip," says Gale, waving a free hand. It's what he calls me, despite the fact that my name is Katniss. When we first met, he asked me what my name was, and though I said Katniss, it was barely audible. Then, when a lynx began to follow me around looking for handouts, it became his nickname for me.

Gale is someone I confide in, someone that feels the same pain I do from my past. He is my equal, my best friend. But even with him, I haven't shared a secret that I've hidden for many years. I do not know how he would react if I told him I was in love with a merchant's son.

"Check out what I shot," he says

From behind his back, he pulls out a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. I laugh, reaching for it. I take out the arrow and hold the bread, inhaling the sweet aroma. It's real bakery bread, something that takes a while to earn when hunting. I wonder what it took for the baker to trade.

"What did it cost you?" I ask. When he answers with just a squirrel, I am surprised. But then, I realize everyone will be a little generous today. I think of Gale waking up early, having to hunt in the woods when it is still dark out. The thought used to make me feel bad, but since we both work equally nowadays, it hasn't resurfaced in a while.

"He even wished me luck," says Gale, "must have been feeling softhearted today."

"I guess," I shrug, "Prim left us cheese." I hold it out, and it doesn't take long for the smile to reach his lips.

We talk for a few minutes, eating the berries from the bush as well. I wish every day could be like this. The woods, though dangerous, are beautiful. The valley is full of summer life. Trees featuring the greenest leaves, the sound of water rushing through the creek, the sun shining above. Everything about this place is its own treasure. I lay down for a few moments, taking in the cool breeze, the soft grass. Even if it is just for a moment, one moment is all I will ever need to relax. I open my eyes to find Gale smiling.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish he were my brother. We could be siblings, or even cousins. We both have the Seam look, straight jet black hair, light skin, even the usual gray eyes that you see on nearly every face in the Seam. Though my mother and Prim are comfortable living here, they always seem to appear out of place. Their blonde hair, blue eyes, they are supposed to be living in town amongst the merchants. Hardly anyone could believe my mother left her town life for the Seam, for my father. But it happened, they fell in love. And when he died, a part of her died as well.

We were terrified. I tried to keep the family running smoothly, but it did not work. They only gave us a certain amount of money to help cover a month in which my mother was supposed to get a job. But she never left her room. It was as if only the sound or sight of my father could bring her back. We were nearly starving, and yet she did nothing about it. I do not hate her, I don't think I ever could. I have still yet to forgive her though, and I try to. Even for my father's sake, I try to act kind towards her. But I was never the forgiving type, and I don't think I ever will be.

I snap out of my thoughts by Gale's voice. "What?" I ask, and when he rolls his eyes, my expression hardens, "I didn't hear you," I say.

"You and I, Katniss, we could do it," says Gale, not meeting my eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I ask him.

"Run off. Live in the woods. We know how to survive. You and me, we could make it," says Gale, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I try to speak up, but no words come out. I do not know how to respond to what he just proposed. The idea never crossed my mind before. I think of it, and try not to show my opinion. Would we leave behind our families? Gale must know I would never agree to anything that left out my family, they would always come first. And even then, I still might say no. I'd also be leaving someone else behind, someone who's as important to me as Prim.

"Of course, if we didn't have so many kids," he adds, and I nod in agreement.

They are not ours, but they might as well be. Prim, as well as Gale's two

younger brothers and sister – Rory, Vick and Posy. We take care of them. In some odd way, we've formed a family, one whose bond can overcome anything. Then, I think of our mothers, because without us, how would they have food? Without us, they wouldn't survive.

"I don't want to have kids." I say

"I don't know. Maybe I would, if I didn't live here."

"But you do," I retort. There is no way around the reaping. His children's names would go in just like everyone else's. How could he, or anyone, take that risk? How could he put an innocent child's life in danger? The Capitol doesn't grant mercy to anyone, no matter what age or condition. They are true monsters.

"Fine! Forget I ever said anything," he snaps, already getting up. He flushes, his face angry. At least he is upset here, I think. Better for everyone he takes his anger out while hunting than on others.

I follow him, hoping he calms down soon. Gale has gone on rants before, how unfair the Capitol is, how we get no justice. It does no good though. It doesn't get any food on the table, it doesn't change the fact that every year twenty-four children are tossed in arena to fight to the death with only one coming out. But still, he is right. I do not doubt that.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, right now, it is time to hunt.

The rest of the day passes fairly quickly. We have a dozen fish, have a bag full of greens, and a gallon of strawberries to sell or trade. We stop by the Hob, a place that used to be an abandoned warehouse but is now a black market where we make most of our money. We finish quickly, trading several of the fish for salt and bread and selling the greens to an old woman named Greasy Sae who gives us a couple chunks of paraffin. Here at the hob she usually sells bowls of soup made in a large kettle. She has a granddaughter, I remember, but I haven't seen her lately.

We stop by the mayor's house as well, selling him the strawberries for a good price. His daughter, Madge Undersee, hands us the money and wishes us both good luck. Unlike many of those who live in town, Madge isn't one to brag. We both don't really do well with the crowds, and since we don't have our own group of friends, we end up pairing up at school for many things. Though we hardly talk, it is nice to have company.

Gale and I split up the profit, as well as the food. I wave goodbye, "See you in the square," I say.

"Wear something pretty," he says, already heading towards his home.

I walk in, noticing Prim and my mother are dressed and ready to go. My mother is wearing a dress from her apothecary days, while Prim is in my first reaping outfit. Pins have made it stay, the skirt and blouse a little too big for her. I head to the bathroom and get in the tub, washing off all the dirt until I am clean. When I step out, I find that an outfit has already been laid. I recognize it being one of my mother's.

Her dresses are special to her, and I will feel terrible if I damage it somehow. "Are you sure about this?" I ask her, trying to keep my tone even.

"It's fine Katniss," she smiles at me, but I nod, "Let's put your hair up too," She towel-dries it and braids it up on my head. When I look at myself in the cracked mirror, I can hardly recognize me.

"You look so pretty," says Prim, smiling.

"For now," I say, and she laughs lightly. But even under that, I can tell she is nervous. It is her first reaping, and though she only has one entry, it is always the hardest to overcome. I didn't let her take out any tesserae, no matter how hard she pleaded.

One tesserae is worth a year's supply of oil and grain for one person. If you enter your name more than once, you will receive it. When I was twelve, I had my name entered four times. I took out one for myself, for Prim, and my mother, and the other one because it is a requirement. It is just the Capitol's way of punishing us. Those who don't need it have a slim chance of getting pick, while those battling starvation have a bigger chance.

I take her in my arms, hoping she will not cry. "Prim, it's your first year, your name's only in there once," I say gently, "they're not going to pick you,"

"What about you?" she asks, and I shake my head.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I say, then see that her blouse is pulled out of her skirt in the back. I smile, "Go tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, releasing her.

Prim smiles a little, but tears are still threatening to spill, "Quack," she says, and I laugh.

"Quack yourself," I say, taking her hand, "Let's eat before we leave."

Though the fish and greens are already cooking in a stew, we decide that will be for later, including the bakery bread and strawberries. We eat the bread make from our grain rations and drink the milk from Prim's goat. Nobody is hungry, so we start heading for the square.

When we arrive, I take in our surroundings. Cameras are everywhere, on the roof, in the streets, you name it. Everyone makes one line and signs in. We are separated into our age groups, eighteen year olds in the front while the twelve year olds fill up the back. I turn to find Prim, who gives me a small smile. My sister will now be eligible to enter the Games. I cannot quite grasp the thought.

How can they do this? I ask myself, how can they be so cold-hearted that they make innocent kids get killed in front of the whole country? And still, I have no answer.

Family members are huddled together, lined up around the perimeter. I see some praying, and some already beginning to cry. My stomach tightens. There are others who don't care, who have nobody they love at stake. Some of those people even make bets on who will get picked. Just like the Capitol citizens, they see it as a game.

I am standing with a group of sixteen year olds from the Seam, who all appear to be nervous. We exchange nods, sometimes even just a glance. My attention focuses on the stage that has been set up for this year's reaping. A podium with a microphone is already standing, three chairs already have been laid out and worst of all, two enormous glass bowls, resting on either side of the podium. One for the boys, one for the girls.

Mayor Undersee is sitting in one of the chairs, as well as Effie Trinket, the Capitol escort, who is too cheery, too perky for someone like me to enjoy her company. They talk softly, already worrying over the missing guest. I turn to Gale just before the clock strikes two and mouth, "Good luck."

He mouths something back, but I am unable to make it out. Before I know it, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read the same story, year after year. I've heard it enough times to memorize it. How the nation of Panem began. The country that rose from the ashes of a place once known as North America, which was nearly destroyed along with the rest of the world.

The result was Panem, the shining Capitol surrounded by thirteen outlying districts. It was supposed to bring peace, prosperity and equal rights to its citizens. But those in the districts got greedy, and they brought on another war. The Dark Days, as they call it, was when we rebelled against the Capitol. The districts had been defeated, the thirteenth was wiped off the map. As punishment for the uprising, the Hunger Games began.

From there, he mayor reads District 12's past victors. In seventy-four years, we've had only two. District 12 is somewhat the laughingstock of Panem. Our tributes, even the ones who stand a chance, never win. And the only victor who is still alive is a reason why. Haymitch Abernathy appears, yelling something we can't quite make out, then plops onto the third seat. I see Effie Trinket shift uncomfortably in her seat.

Mayor Undersee turns to Haymitch, giving his head a quick shake. He then introduces Effie Trinket, who is already smiling broadly. She bounces up to the podium and says her signature slogan, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

She talks about what an honor it is to be here, though everyone can see she is hoping to get promoted to a better district.

I find Gale and smile. The Capitol accent is strange, but it's really is fun to mimic. But too soon, I snap back to reality and realize it is time to choose the girl tribute. I take a deep breath as Effie says, "Ladies first!"

She sticks her hand into the glass bowl, searching for a few moments until she finally pulls out a slip. I pray silently, over and over that it is not me. Effie Trinket heads back to the podium, smiling. She reads the name out in a clear voice, and though it is not me, I cannot breathe.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

I cannot breathe. My mind tries to sort everything out, analyzing the situation, trying to react. But I don't move. My knees begin to crumble, and I feel an arm grab me in time before I fall. I cannot believe this. Prim should never have been called. One slip, she only had one slip. It did not matter though. She has been called. My mind finally registers the thought, she will be going into the Hunger Games.

I see her now, waking towards the stage, fists clenched, trying to fight the tears. It is when I see the back of her blouse is untucked once more, the ducktail. I stand up and run after her before I know it. "Prim!" I yell, afraid nobody will be able to hear me.

The crowd forms a clear path for me to run through. I yell her name again, though louder, the pain is obvious. "Prim!" I finally reach her just when she is about to head up the steps. In one swift motion, I swing my arm, and push her back.

"I volunteer!" I say, my voice cracking, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Everyone looks at me like I'm about to commit suicide. We haven't had a volunteer in ages, so nobody really knows the procedure. But if a girl's name is called, someone else can volunteer to take their place. Same with when a boy tribute is called. Effie looks at me, her face brightening, "Wonderful! But dear, I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers. If one does wish to, then we..." she trails off, not sure of what is next.

"Let her come forth! What does it matter?" Mayor Undersee sees me, a pained expression registering on his face. We don't know each other that well, but he recognizes me, and he feels pity.

"Katniss no! Please don't go!" screams Prim, her arms wrapped around me, refusing to surrender.

"Prim, let go!" I snap. I am trying hard not to cry, trying to avoid her gaze. If I do shed even a single tear, the others will mark me as an easy target when the reapings air on television tonight, "Let go!"

I feel her arms loosen and find that Gale is holding Prim, who is trying to fight his grip, "Up you go, Catnip," Though it doesn't sound like it, I can see he is fighting to keep his tone even. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Bravo! This is the spirit of the Games," she gestures towards me, "What is your name young lady?"

"Katniss Everdeen," I say, trying to relax.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister! Don't want her to steal all the glory, hmm?" She doesn't give me a chance to respond, which I am grateful for, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a hand to our newest tribute!"

Nobody claps, the whole square is completely silent. That is when something unexpected happens. One by one, the crowd touvhes the three middle fingers of thier left hand to their lips and hold it out to me. I have not seen the gesture in a while, but I know it is hardly used. It is meant to say thanks, admiration, even good-bye to someone you love.

I try not to stare at the screen because tears are threatening to spill. Thankfully, Haymitch picks this time to come congratulate me. "Look at this one! I like her! Lot's of..." he tries to find the correct words, "Spunk!" He throws an arm around my shoulders, and I try not to throw up. He smells as though he hasn't showered for days, and his breath reeks. Finally, he lets go and points to the camera. "More than you!" He shouts, "More than you!"

I do not know if he is telling the audience, or even the Capitol. But I will not find out anytime soon, because when he is going to continue, he falls off the stage, knocking himself out. Soon, he is put on a stretcher and taken away from view. Effie smiles, then walks back to the stage.

"How exciting! But there is more to come! The moment you have been waiting for! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" She walks over to the other glass bowl and searches through the names, finally picking one. Effie heads over to the podium, and says a name of a person that I would possibly walk through fire for.

"Peeta Mellark!" shouts Effie, smiling.

I see him as he walks up to the stage, shining blue eyes that now show no emotion, dark blonde hair with a strong build from all the years of working in the bakery. The mayor steps in once more, already beginning to read the Treaty of Treason, but of course, I do not hear a single thing. I turn towards Peeta, who appears as though he is in deep thought. Why him? I think, Anybody else...

My mind fast forwards to the arena, already beginning to plan ahead. I know that even if I survive the first day, which is unlikely, I could never kill Peeta. It doesn't matter if we were the last two tributes standing. It would be as if telling me to kill Prim, my mother, even Gale. Impossible. I know Prim and my mother would be devastated, but they do not know. Nobody does. I can almost hear Gale's voice if that were to happen. Katniss, what is wrong with you? Kill him already, you have no other choice! It's either you or him that will come home!

I shake my head, the odds are definitely not in my favor today. He looks up at me, our eyes meeting. I drop my gaze, my expression hardening. I will not be a contender, though, when faced with the other tributes, those who've trained their whole lives for the Games. I will not stand a chance. I hate having to imagine Prim turn away from the screen at the sight of my death. Before she knows it, before anyone knows it, I will be gone.

But Peeta Mellark... he deserves to live. He deserves to be happy, to actually be able to enjoy his life. To be able to breathe when this is all over. He just has to make it out. I do not even want to picture him returning home, but in a coffin. I will be consumed with guilt if he doesn't. Or even worse, if he dies before I do. Though the chances are slim, anything could happen. I mean, my own sister, who had just one entry, had been called. This goes to show that anything could happen with the Hunger Games. And besides, he has helped me throughout the years. He kept me alive once...

The first time we talked was when we were younger, when we first began school. He promised he would stand up for me if I was ever to get picked on again. It was that promise that made me feel safe. Besides my father, I never really felt that someone actually cared. It was those simple words that made me fall for him.

The second was right after my fathers death. We were slowly dying, my whole family. My mother left us behind, leaving Prim and me to fend for ourselves. Nobody became suspicious of us, nobody noticed. Except for Peeta Mellark. The hollowness in our cheekbones, the way you could see our ribs when we breathed in, the emptiness in our eyes. We were suffering, and he knew it. He followed me after school one day, calling my name mulitple times, but I did not stop until we entered the Seam.

He didn't say a word, but our eyes met, and I could tell he was genuinely sorry. He handed me a small note, already walking away.

_Please tell me if you two need help. You don't have to go through this alone._

It was that note that kept me going for the next few weeks. But one day, it became too much. I was too weak, and one day, I nearly collapsed. I fell in front of their pig's pen, trying to fight back the tears. He was watching me the whole time from behind the counter, shaking his head. There were two loaves of bread he had burnt, and for that, he took a beating. His mother glared at him as he came outside to feed it to the pigs, but soon directed her attention to the customer.

I could never imagine my parents hitting us, but there he was, a red mark on his face. Suddenly, he double-checked, making sure she wasn't looking, and before I knew it, the loaves were at my feet. He hurried inside, shutting the door behind me. It were those loaves that kept my family and me going, just like that small note, just like those two words, "I promise." That was all it took for me to know that things could get better. That was all it took to make me believe.

He was true to his word. When we were fourteen, another merchant kid had been talking trash about me, though I had no idea why. It wasn't until a crowd started forming that I realized there was trouble. Peeta had hit him for saying that. When they seperated them, our eyes met, and I mouthed the only words I could think of, thank you.

Though we had never really talked, though we hardly knew each other, Peeta Mellark has helped me throughout the years. He kept me alive, kept me going more than once...

And now it is time for me to return the favor.

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><p><strong>authors note: What did you think? As always, comments, questions, or suggestions are welcome! Review please!<strong>

**~Bree**

**FAQs: Note that I can't replace chapters for some reason. I've tried but it always says error something and tells me to log in. I've tried nearly anything, but I can't get it. So sorry if you thought it was an update.**

**And to answer a question that with just the first chapter 6 people have already PMd: will There by the usual love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale?**

**To those who have read this story before, I posted it one time, don't know if you remember. So here it is again, I am not that big of a fan at Gale, and just like The Hunger Games I will only stick to Katniss' point of view. If I choose to write a sequel (could be a possibility because I already have the whole story planned out) then maybe, but right now, the answer is no.**

**Does Peeta love her back?**

**To say that would be like to read the back of a novel first! Sorry cant answer right now!**

**Does Katniss have any feelings for Gale?**

**He is her best friend at this point, so for now, no. She's only ever thought of Peeta that way.**

**Will Katniss be OOC at times?**

**Very few moments where she will be, but they will be there. Remember, she loves peeta so that changed her in a few ways but not completely. **


	2. Decisions

**Authors Note: Update time! Hope you like this chapter, next update probably around the 12th of next month, maybe sooner. As always, comments, suggestions, or questions are welcome. Read and review please! **

**~Bree**

**Thanks to my Beta GirlWithTheSilverTongue!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games no matter how much I wish I did.**

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><p><em>When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."<em> – _Lao Tzu_

Chapter 2: Decisions

It seems like time has frozen, for the mayor forever continues to read, and Peeta Mellark is still in deep thought. I wonder what he is thinking about right now. But I know that whatever he tries to do, I have to try my best to keep him alive. He gave me the note, the bread. But most of all, he gave me hope. Hope that was soon lost and nearly forgotten when my father had died. When he did that one simple act of kindness, I knew the odds weren't impossible.

I take a deep breath, looking around at the audience. I can see my mother and Prim in the distance, holding on to one another tightly. After we finish up the reaping here, we are given one hour to say goodbye to our loved ones in a room in the Justice Building. I do not know at all what I would say to any of them. That I won't be coming home? They must know that deep down. Despite everything I know, everything I was taught, I will never be able to win the games.

I think of when it does occur, how they will react. Will my mother abandon her only child, going into the darkness once more? Or will she actually be able to pull on a brave face? They will have Gale; he would never let anything bad happen to them. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. I cannot pretend that I will not miss them, that they won't be on my mind in my last few minutes. I find Gale in the crowd as well, and even though he knows I'm starring right at him, he does not meet my eyes. I can't even begin to think of what he will tell me when we say goodbye.

The mayor finishes briefly, and gestures for us to shake hands. I feel a spark when I hold Peetas hand, warm and strong. I try not to meet his eyes, even though I know it's rude. But somehow, they find his, and reflexively I squeeze his hand for that one small second then immediately let go. He pauses for a moment, and then slowly drops his hand. Not even a hint of a smile. I have to at least get him to trust me, or an alliance will never work. If he even wants me for an ally. This thought makes me stand up straight.

I hear the anthem play, and know that this is not a dream. This is real, and I am no longer a viewer.

I am the pawn.

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><p>Immediately after it ends, Peeta and I are directed into the Justice Building. Though we aren't prisoners, it sure feels that way. I wonder if any of the tributes from the past have tried to escape. We climb up the steps quickly, as if they want to rush us through the sessions. We are separated, and then escorted into different rooms. The one I am in is luxurious, soft carpets with velvet chairs and sofas. A chandelier hangs above; all glass crystals that shine in every direction. I take a seat on one sofa, telling myself to relax. No matter who comes through the door, no matter what they may say, I know I cannot cry. There will be even more cameras at the train station.<p>

I think of what will happen once I leave. Gale of course will keep his promise, I will not doubt that. But how will Prim and my mother handle it all, having to watch me on the screen not knowing if I will survive the next few hours? They must know I will not come back, they cannot think otherwise. I do not want to hurt them, but there can only be one victor, and I will not rest until I know for sure that the one to come home on the train will be Peeta Mellark. To think, I had all these years to just say thank-you, to pay him back for what he has done. And now, I am in debt, for I have to give him the biggest price of all. My own life.

_You love him, _I think. But is enough to sacrifice myself for him? Enough to abandon my mother and Prim, even Gale, just to give him the life he deserves? I'd do anything, anything else to pay him back at this moment. However, I don't have that option anymore. I hate owing people, not paying them back. Because if you don't, then the guilt just keeps on building. And one day, that guilt could very well turn into you taking the bullet, taking the whip instead of them.

Yet, I know it is the right thing to do. Peeta didn't have an easy life, though it, in ways was better than mine. He deserved to grow up in a house much like my own, before my father passed away. I've done nothing good to deserve even the right to live. But here I am, still alive, still breathing. And now, once more I have to deal with the fact that my family must move on. In just a few moments, they will walk through the door, the very people that could change my decision in a heartbeat. I wonder if he hadn't been called, would Peeta still come to see me, would he at least wish me good luck, or just give that little bit of hope that could get me through it all.

What if I had made it back? I imagine seeing my family's face at the train station, overjoyed expressions that would make everything I went through worthwhile. But no, that is just a fantasy. It will never come true, despite who may wish it. At a young age I realized you have to fight for the things that make your life worth living. Nothing, especially in this world, will ever be given to you for free. I used to believe what my father would say, how things would always get better. In some ways, they have. We have enough to support a roof over our heads, food to eat, and water to drink. Some are not as fortunate. But things will never be the same without him.

But if anything I have learned from experience, things do not get better unless you choose to make them better. We were nearly dying of starvation. Food did not just magically appear at our doorstep. The door creaks open, interrupting my thoughts. Prim rushes towards me, throwing her arms around me as if it could keep me here, keep me safe. Tears stream down her face; her blue eyes are filled with fear. My mother follows, her pace slowing with every step. One thing I notice, she does not meet my eyes. Minutes go by, we say nothing, as if our words would not keep time still.

When Prim was younger and had a nightmare, I was always the one there to comfort her, to rock her gently until she fell back asleep. But things are different now. This is reality, and my sister's worst kind of nightmare. I cannot imagine the guilt she must feel, knowing she could have taken my place. It does not matter though. I would have never let her. I rather die a thousand times than let my little sister go through what I'm about to face.

Finally, I speak up, and for better or for worse, I tell them not to expect me coming home. Prim sobs at my words, and though I know it must sting, the truth has to be heard. I explain the basics, telling them on how to get by, how Gale will help with the hunting and other necessities that might be needed later on. I strictly warn my mother to not let Prim take out any tesserae, no matter what situation they may face. It will not be required though. They can both get by, with Gale's help and my mother's apothecary business that she now runs for District 12. I remind them of other things as well, trading and bartering included.

I turn to face Prim, to hug her one last time, "You have to be strong okay?" I say as gently as I can manage, but tears still run down her face like water from a faucet, "No matter what may happen to me, you cannot break. Don't feel guilty, please don't. I'd rather be stabbed a thousand times than see you be forced into the Games."

"But Katniss–" She tries to continue, but I place a finger on her lip.

"I love you," I say, forcing myself to smile.

"I love you too. But Katniss, please listen," when I don't interrupt, she continues, "You are strong, you're fast, but most of all, you always have the will to move forward. The Games can break even the strongest of tributes. But Katniss, you're unbreakable. You can win, if you try. Please promise me you'll try."

I can't say the words, I cannot speak. If I say yes, I will be making a promise I cannot keep. But when I look at her, into the light blue eyes of the girl I would do anything for, I know I must. At least she leaves me knowing I will try my hardest, only it will not be me I will be trying to get back home. "I promise."

I turn to my mother, my expression hardening, "You can't abandon Prim," I tell her, "She will not be able to handle all this on her own. You're the only one she has left right now. You can't leave her, not again."

My mother stares at the floor when she responds, "I won't. I could have handled it if I had the medication I have now. I lost everything, Katniss, everything when your father died."

"Exactly," I say, "And Prim will lose everything she has left if you leave."

We say goodbye one last time, and way too soon, peacekeepers escort them out. _Is this really it? _I think, _is this really goodbye? _All those times I pushed my mother away will surely haunt me. I took her for granted, only up to this moment did I realize I will lose not just her, but Prim as well. What will they think when my death comes?

Even when a loved one is in the Games, it is hard to turn away from the screen. They survive for days, allying with the right people, eating the right foods, even using the right weapons that they can use to their advantage. And just when you let yourself believe that they will come home, they die, right in front of your eyes. I've seen it, though District 12 has not had the best tributes to offer, some actually stood a chance, only to be killed off in the end.

And yet, that is what every family faces. Year after year, all those tributes, all those innocent people, they all have people who care about them. Does the Capitol know that? Does the Capitol even care? I shake my head, clearing my thoughts.

Two more people come to see me afterwards, and both are surprising. One is Peetas father, the baker. We don't talk much, except that he says that if needed, he will help Prim and my mother. I thank him for that, for his kindness. Just like Peeta, he has a heart of gold.

Madge comes next, and although it is quick, it is very meaningful. She tells me to promise that I will try to come home, and I tell her exactly what I told Prim. But before she left, she gave me a small gold pin she had been wearing during the time of the reaping. My fingers run over it, admiring its beauty. She says that every tribute is allowed one district token, to wear when they are in the arena. I take it gratefully and tell her goodbye. Besides Gale, Madge is my only real friend. We don't really talk much, but are together for many things at school.

I hate seeing them go, but am thankful to know that my family will be safe, and maybe, just maybe, they will be alright.

Gale comes in last, walking slowly towards the plush couch right across from me. His expression is calm, relaxed, but he cannot mask the hurt in his eyes. Only someone who truly knows him can look underneath his demeanour, and see what emotion is lying under his skin. There are people who are open books, who others can read so easily that there is no need to hide what they are feeling. More than ever, I wish Gale was one of them.

"Katniss, listen, there's no time to waste. You have to find a bow and arrow. Don't try to waste your time with other weapons, improve with the bow and arrow, but don't forget to pick up a knife. If anything, it is one of the most promising weapons to carry in the Games." says Gale, looking straight into my eyes. It alarms me by how serious he is.

"What if there are no bows and arrows?" I ask, "what if there are no knives?"

"Katniss, they will at least have knives. I can promise you that."

"And stay alive. Katniss you know how to hunt. You are brave and fast and strong, and I know you have doubts, but you really can win. The Capitol doesn't care what you do. To them, you are just another piece of their games. Show them who you are, show them what you can do." Gale says, and this time moves over to sit next to me.

"Gale, but it's not animals. They are real people," I say, wondering how it will be. I won't handle it well when I kill someone first.

"Yes Katniss, people who won't even hesitate to kill you if you don't fight back." Gale snaps, but then wraps one of his arms around my shoulders. I feel a bit uncomfortable by this, but then relax. There is nothing romantic between us, so why worry? Right?

"I know. Gale, please keep my family alive," I say, although I already know he will. I stare at him, my best friend, my companion. The one person who I can confide in, one of the only people who made me feel human again. He looks at me, and I actually get a real glimpse at him. Jet black hair with light skin, and grey eyes that have flames behind, just waiting to burst. But for the first time, I notice that he is attractive in a way, that he wouldn't have any trouble finding a girl to marry, to go off with and have kids.

I don't let the thought sink in though, because when I think of Gale, I switch to Peeta, a future I know we can never have. I would never risk marriage, a child who could very well be put in the reaping. I know the odds are still the same, but it could happen, and then where would I be? Would I go into depression just like my mother, who literally died when my father passed away? I don't even want to take that risk. But I can't help wanting Peeta, wanting him to feel the same way about me as I do for him. I then realize Gale and I are embraced in a hug.

What will he do when the time comes? I know that this will not be something he will take likely. He is more than just my hunting partner. Gale is the only one I can be myself with, my closest companion, but most of all, he is my best friend. How can I say goodbye, how can I let go, to any of these people, without them taking a part of me with them? They represent who I am, who I was, and who I am meant to become. Not even the Games can take away that. The thought makes me want to smile.

The peacekeepers show up then, and Gale tries to get more time, but they pull us apart. "Gale, keep them alive!" I remind him as he slips from my grasp.

"I won't Katniss, but always remember I –" He says, but the door shuts. I am alone once more.

And I never will know what he wanted to say. I shake my head, can't help but wishing for a future with no Capitol, no Hunger Games. To think, in just a few hours, I will be in the Capitol. In just a few days, I will be in an arena, about to face my death. What will my loved ones see though, when they look through the screen? All I can see right now is a girl, broken beyond repair, but yet, somehow managed to hold herself together.

And now, that girl is once more going to fall apart.

Whether I like it or not, the damage is done. But there is no turning back now.

I'm broken.

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><p><strong>Authors Note: Do you think we can reach 40? Or 35 reviews? If you want go check out my other stories! Thanks for reading!<strong>

**~Bree**


	3. Dawn Will Break

**A/N: I was going through my files right now and I completely forgot I had already written chapter 3. It will be beta'd soon, but I thought I owed it to you guys to post this after a long wait. Like I've mentioned before, I won't be able to write for a while. I feel terrible for I had this chapter ready for who knows how long and I kept you guys waiting, thinking I needed to write it. Anyways, hope you enjoy it! Review please!**

**~Bree**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, no matter how much I wish I did.**

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><p>Chapter 3: Left Behind<p>

"However long the night, dawn will break."

~A.P Dennison

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><p>All too quickly, peacekeepers walk into the room, escorting me out of the Justice Building and into a car that will transport us to the train station. I prepare myself for the cameras, swarming around like bees, so eager to capture images, the faces of the innocent, and then lock us up into an arena where we will parish. All but one. It will be dark soon, my mother and Prim preparing for bed. I wonder how they will fare, if they will worry or cry. Will my mother abandon Prim yet again, without the support of a sister to pull them through? I shiver at the thought. Effie Trinket misinterprets my gesture and hands me a light green sweater. I run my fingers over the fabric repeatedly. For some strange reason, it seems to calm me. Green, the color of the forest, the trees, even the grass. My mind wanders off, and once again, I am in the woods, safe and unharmed. Away from the Capitol.<p>

Away from the Games.

We arrive shortly, and once again I am escorted by peacekeepers. Reporters are all over the place, taking footage for all of Panem to see. I take a deep breath before I step out of the car, making sure they will not be able to read my emotions, that I will show no expression at all. How can they be so excited, so eager, when innocent lives are at stake? When they know twenty-three tributes, not even considered adults yet, go into an arena and are forced to kill each other for the sake of entertainment? Do they not see how cruel, how selfish they all seem to us? How can they sit back and enjoy the show when they know that there is a family out there, loved ones, who are now mourning over their loss? Shaking my head, I turn to find Peeta standing near the entrance, trying not to meet my gaze. I feel a wave of disappointment flood through me, but quickly let it go. We aren't friends, not even acquaintances, so what does it matter?

_Only, it does_, I think, and find myself facing the other way. We stand in silence for a few moments, letting the reporters take whatever else they need before we depart. The doors soon close, and the train lurches forward, the motion causing me to stumble slightly. Peeta reaches out instinctively to stop me from falling, but I correct myself at once.

"I'm alright," I say.

He nods, his face unreadable. I met his gaze, startled by his vibrant blue eyes, "There's nothing wrong with a little help, Katniss."

I do not respond. What could he possibly mean, _there's nothing wrong with a little help? _I analyze the words, searching for some sort of hidden meaning, but am left with only emptiness.

_M_y thoughts are interrupted by a small push. I find a servant, a Capitol resident whose job is to make sure we are taken care of. Peeta and I are separated, shown to our rooms. The place is breath-taking, a largely spaced bedroom with a dressing room, and a bathroom that I am allowed twenty-four seven access to. Clothes are placed in dressers, wrinkle-free and slightly off for my taste. I am told that here on the train, I can order anything I want, wear what I please, and feel free to do anything I wish. I do not understand the fact that we are given this large quarter, which we won't even use for more than a day.

Our journey to the Capitol in this train will take less than a couple hours. I probably won't even eat breakfast on the train, let alone sleep in. I shake my head, stripping off my clothes and walk into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot water relaxes my muscles, easing my tension. I step out quickly, and dress myself in dark pants with a light green shirt. I already start to walk out when I find my mother's dress still on the floor. I grab it carefully, my fingers grazing over the silky fabric, admiring its beauty. It is then that I find Madge's gold pin she had given me as a gift.

I carefully take it off of the dress, examining it until I remember what it really is. A golden mocking-jay with such detail, so carefully designed it's as lovely as a snowflake falling from the sky during the winter. Freezing cold, the snow more of a gray color because of the coal, of the ash. The sadness and despair of those people who lost a loved one due to sickness, to starvation. All because of winter. But a small snowflake, even one so delicate that when it touches the palm of your hand, it melts, can make you appreciate the beauty in life.

Even the beauty that lies hidden in Panem, covered by destruction and death, will eventually find its way out. I twirl the mocking-jay pin between my fingers, memories of my father already surfacing. He always seemed to have a special bond with the exquisite creatures. Whenever he would whistle or sing in the woods, the mocking-jays near would pause to listen, then immediately sing the complicated notes back. His voice was lovely, full of joy and happiness that when he would sing, it made you forget everything bad that has happened. Even to those who have suffered the worst. I haven't sung since his death, it doesn't bring back the happy moments we once shared, but the pain and feeling of loss that he will never return.

I clip the pin onto the green shirt, pacing around the room quietly until Effie comes to escort me to dinner. We walk into a room with a glass chandelier, paneled walls and a view of the outside, which is now full of colors. The sun is setting over the horizon, colors splashing through the sky as though they are dancing across. Flashes of pink, orange, and yellow fill up my mind for just a second, but I am pulled back into reality when I notice Peeta is sitting near an empty seat. This angers me for a moment, the fact that Haymitch doesn't even have the courtesy to properly introduce himself, but then realize it is better off that he is not here. No telling what he could do when he is drunk.

"Do you kids know where Haymitch is?" says Effie, taking in the absence.

"He said he was going to take a nap," responds Peeta, looking at me for a second. My heart skips a beat, but I quickly turn my attention to Effie once more. I can't help but notice what appears to be disappointment cross his face.

"Well, it has been a long day," states Effie, though her expression shows relief.

Soon dinner is served, and it all smells wonderful. We are served one right after another; our stomachs already full by the time the third course arrives. Effie reminds us that we shouldn't eat it all since there will be more to come, but I keep on eating. The food is delicious, and the only thing that is on my mind is to finish the whole meal. I've never eaten this much, and even though I have been full sometimes, it is nothing like this. By the time we arrive at the main course, I am stuffed.

Effie watches us like a hawk, only making polite small talk every now and then. But one thing she says really pushes my buttons. "At least you two have decent manners. The tributes last year ate only with their hands, eating like savages with every meal. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever witnessed." She shakes her head in disapproval at the thought, and feel the urge to speak up.

The tributes last year were from the Seam, and sadly, no matter what, they never had enough to eat. So when they saw all this, I can only imagine what must have been going through their minds. It certainly wasn't table manners. I finish the meal quickly, and my stomach is already feeling like it is about to explode. I breath in, trying to keep the food down. I know that I shouldn't have eaten that much, but couldn't help it. Then, for some strange reason, I think of Prim, of Gale. How they probably had dinner prepared, but didn't even touch it because they were worried about me. And here I am, eating as if there is no tomorrow.

_There might be a tomorrow, but I might not be around to spend it with them, _I think, and direct my attention back to the table. Effie stands up, giving instructions to the attendants and leads us to another room to watch the recap of the reapings. It's hard to believe that people back home are watching the same thing on television. They go through each district, making sure to capture close footage of each tribute. Some volunteer to step forward, but mostly they are chosen. There are some that stand out to me, but only one that makes me want to lurch at the Capitol's throats.

A girl from District 11 is chosen, small and scared and she walks up the stage to take her place. She is only twelve, but yet, her life is already at stake. I can't help but think of the idea of turning away, but know that will only upset Effie. But when I see her, I see Prim, helpless and alone in these Games, with nobody but the sound of the wind to take her place. I don't pay much attention to our recap, and as soon as Effie turns the television off, I'm grateful.

What if I was that little girl? What if I had no one to look after me, nobody that could have volunteered because they loved me? I can't imagine it, let alone live it. Peeta seems to notice my discomfort and turns to face me. "You okay?"

I nod, restraining myself from blurting out the only thing I want him to know before I die. _I love you_, I think, and just like the little girl, only the noise of the train is listening, ready to respond.

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><p><strong>AN: It's not the best, I'll work on it later on. Thanks for reading! Review please!**

**~Bree**


	4. A New World

**Author's Note: I am having trouble with writing the next chapter for just a dream, so until I overcome my writer's block, I decided to focus on Broken instead. Sorry for the lack of updates lately! Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, suggestions, comments, or questions are welcome. You can let me know either through a review or through a PM. **

**Next chapter should be posted... in two weeks? School is over, which means I now have more time to write. Thanks so much for sticking with me, even through all this mess. It means the world. Review please!**

**~Bree**

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><p>Chapter 4: A New World<p>

_"Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks." ~ Samuel Johnson_

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><p>It seems like hours have passed before someone actually speaks. Effie Trinket clears her throat, interrupting the awkward silence. "Your mentor has some things to learn about presentation. Even more about televised behavior." She shakes her head.<p>

Out of nowhere, I laugh. Peeta and Effie both look at me curiously. But then, Peeta smiles, "He was drunk, just like last year. And the year before, and the year before that…"

I smile back, feeling the tension slowly easing. But not before Effie snaps at us. "You two shouldn't find that humorous. Your mentor is the person who clears your sponsors, advises you, and gives you gifts that could very well mean that you survive another day! This is something to be taken in a serious manner, and if you two don't get your act together –" says Effie, but is cut off by a drunken Haymitch walking in.

"What'd I miss?" He asks, and I know this will not turn out good.

All of the sudden, as if right on cue, he throws up on the carpet, the foul smell already filling the room. Then, as if he's Effie's perfect example, he slips into it, trying to get up clumsily.

Effie shakes her head and runs out of the room, barely missing the vomit. Haymitch looks at us, confused by the situation. "Did I slip?" He asks, trying to cover his nose to avoid the smell. It does not work; he smears his face with vomit, making my appetite quickly disappear. Peeta is the first to move, walking to Haymitch's right side.

"Could you lift him up? We can guide him to his room and I'll handle it from there." says Peeta, nodding towards Haymitch.

"Okay." I say, raising him up. He stinks badly, and I can't help but turn away from him as we walk towards his quarters. Along the way, we encounter a Capitol attendant who is more than willing to help. Peeta hesitates at first, but then carefully hands him over. The attendant nods politely and they both go into his room so he can be cleaned.

Peeta and I walk in utter silence to our rooms. I try to get myself to say something, but hold myself back. _It's better to keep my mouth shut,_I think, _one wrong word and I completely lose the little amount of trust I am trying to gain._I am deep in thought when I find that Peeta has been talking the whole time.

"What?" I ask, feeling embarrassed.

"I said do you think he even cares?" asks Peeta.

"I don't know," I admit, "I don't know him, not really. I wonder why he started to drink in the first place." The words come out suddenly, before I have any chance to stop them.

"Probably because of the Games," says Peeta, looking away. The room turns dark, and I realize we are going through a tunnel. I think about this for a moment, then come up with a conclusion that we are just passing through a district. The Capitol was built in a place that was known as the Rocky Mountains. During the Dark Days, the mountains and tunnels were a key component for the Capitol's success. It was hard for the rebels to attack without being caught by the hovercrafts.

"Does it really haunt you that much?" I ask, "I mean, does it scar you?"

"Of course. You see murders right before your eyes. Heck, he witnessed deaths, and even had to face the horror of killing people himself. He won the second Quarter Quell. It was twice as many tributes. Must have been hell." He looks at me for a brief second that passes to quickly. For a moment, I take a peek at his eyes, his thoughts, but most of all, am overwhelmed with the memory of how he saved me, how he gave me motivation. Does he remember any of that? But the more important question, why did he even care?

We reach my quarters too quick, too soon. I wave goodbye quickly, but before I can turn the door, he catches my arm. I flinch from his touch. I'm not used to it, holding hands, hugging. That part of me vanished when my father died. He looks hurt for a moment, but then shakes his head. "Never mind. I'll see you in the morning." And just like that, he slips away from my grasp, like sand slipping through my fingers.

For a moment, I let myself imagine what he could say. I picture a future I will never have, a wish that can never be granted. Images of Prim picking flowers in the meadow, Gale being so quiet and swift when we hunt, Madge smiling at me during school hours, all these will be gone within the blink of an eye. My father, my mother, who people said was once full of life. I can't see that side of her anymore, I never will. How are they right now? I feel a sudden wave of guilt flood through me for having not thought of them sooner.

_The more you don't think of them, the better, _I try to reason, _it will make killing Peeta that much harder because you will be conflicted with going home to them. _I find how selfish it sounds, and toss both thoughts away. The reason I live today is because of them. I think of the reaping. Could I have let Prim walk into the Games? No, never. I love her too much to even imagine that. The feelings I would be experiencing, it would be even worse then with anyone else I love. The only reason I tried to be brave after my father's death was because of Prim. She needed someone to look after her, I couldn't just abandon her like our mother did us. When I see her now, I picture myself back when he was alive. When I allowed myself to sing and laugh, live life to the fullest. But it does not work like that anymore, and it never will again. For a strange reason, I'm having doubts. Can my family really survive without me? Could I bring myself to let them suffer because I let Peeta win?

_No, Peeta will live,_ I remind myself, _and so will them._

I don't run after Peeta, I just stand there, thinking, wondering. Finally, I walk into my room and go through the dresser until I find some sweats. Or at least that is what they appear to be. A soft peach color made of fine silk. I put them on and get under the covers, drowsiness wins, and I fall asleep a few moments after I close my eyes…

_Burning… Fire… I smell smoke, am enclosed with darkness. My father yells out my name, but it is so far away. Distance will win out, leaving me alone here. I try to move, but cannot. All around me. I'm trapped, never being able to get out. My fingers reach, and I touch the hard surface of coal, smell the dark charcoal. Someone else yells out my name, but I don't respond. I close my eyes, trying to relax, trying to breathe. _

_I can't, and just like my father, I will never see sunlight again. I will not return home to my mother, to Prim. Gale, Madge, Peeta, the few people who I will be losing are the ones that hurt me the most. And for an instant, I see myself in a casket, people crying as they lay me down in the ground, never to come out. Suddenly, everything shifts back, and I am now eleven once more. The scenery is different. _

_The meadow, full of wildflowers of different colors, the sky a cloudless blue. The birds are singing, and I am holding my father's hand. A young Prim is skipping around, picking small flowers as we walk along. My mother is how she was before she left us. Full of happiness, of life. Then, the fire comes. A pure red, full of hatred and death. The pain is nowhere near what I have experience before, but it flashes for a moment. But we are not in the meadow no longer. We are in the mines, and the sound rockets throughout. A cry can barely escape my lips before my family is blown into pieces, the ash of sadness and despair spread through the air. _

I wake up with a jerk, grabbing a pillow to cover my scream. Sweat beads from my forehead, and before I can stop them, tears pour from my eyes. It takes several minutes for my heart to finally slow.

I toss and turn for a couple minutes, trying to shake off the nightmare, and all images that could remind me of it. But yet, I can't. It's stuck with me, and I know for better or for worst, I will end up having the same nightmare once more. But eventually, I feel the rock of the train beneath, see the moonlight peeking in through the curtains, casting a glow in the room, and feel my muscles relax, my thoughts stop running through my head. My mind is cleared, and I let myself fall asleep.

Effie Trinket's voice is what greets me as I open my eyes. Not a gentle knock on the door, but a loud bang that makes me jump. Her cheery voice pipes from outside, "Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

I rise slowly, heading towards the dresser while searching for a shirt. I finally decide on a faded blue long-sleeve, with some simple pants. I wash my face quickly to wake myself up, since it looks like I'll pass out any second from exhaustion. I did not get a good night's sleep. I look at my hair, to find that it still is in the same elaborate braid my mother had done the day before. I think about taking it apart, but since we will be thrown into the Remake Center as soon as we arrive in the Capitol I leave it up.

I walk down the familiar hall, preparing myself for what could be the worst morning I could ever experience. I find Haymitch actually smiling, but only because the attendant has just given him a glass of wine. I shake my head, turning to find Peeta drinking what looks to be a cup of coffee. Effie passes me a cup, and I try to act pleased. I have never have had much of a taste for coffee, but this is something entirely new.

Haymitch invites me to sit down while taking a sip of his wine. I just hope he isn't already drunk. But as soon as I sit, a large amount of food is served, and my mouth is already watering. I examine the food, but my eyes keep coming back to the coffee. It smells different for some reason. Peeta catches me analyzing it and smiles, "They say its hot chocolate, it's pretty good."

I nod, wondering if I should smile back. I start to eat the courses, each having their own significant flavor and taste, filling my stomach up. I want more, but am already getting full. My throat feels dry, so I take a risk and drink the hot chocolate. The sweet liquid has the opposite effect, but I don't care. I finish it quickly, already planning to ask for some more but then stop myself. I look over at Haymitch, who hasn't even touched any food. He's not much, but he's all I have to work with. I take a deep breath and try to start a conversation.

"So, when are you going to start giving us advice?" I ask, "The Games will come in a matter of days, and yet you aren't even going to talk with us about strategies, impressions –" I say, but am cut off.

"You want some advice?" asks Haymitch sarcastically, and I can already see I might have ticked him off just a bit, "stay alive!" He then chuckles to himself.

I turn to Peeta, who is shaking his head in disapproval. "Haha," says Peeta, grabbing the glass of wine, "That's funny, only not to us. Our lives will be at stake, and you won't even be sober enough to watch!" He says in disgust.

Haymitch looks at him like he had taken away all his money. He pauses, then out of nowhere, his fist makes contact with Peeta's face. Peeta stumbles out of his seat, and as Haymitch reaches for the glass once more, I grab my knife and drive it into the table about a centimeter from his finger. I prepare myself for the worst, but can't help not regretting it. If he had done something worst to Peeta, I wouldn't be missing his fingers.

Haymitch stops, and starts to laugh, "Not bad… do I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta, getting up from the floor and back into his seat is angry, but tries to be reasonable. "It depends, did we actually get a chance at winning?"

Haymitch smiles, then turns to face me, "What about you sweetheart? Can you hit anything else with that knife?" He asks, but I know he's not being serious.

"If you don't pay attention, then yes." I say, my hand already gripping the knife. I would prefer a bow and arrow, but sometimes they don't have certain weapons. But if a knife is all I have to work with, then so be it. A couple years back, Gale taught me how to kill with a knife in exchange for me teaching him all I know about the bow and arrow. We sometimes spent hours just arguing with each other, thinking our ways were the better way. But eventually, we stopped and actually got to learning. I smile at the memory, but then realize where I am.

"Stand over there," He gestures to the corner, "Both of you." He examines us, our build, our muscles. I resist the urge to push him away when he comes a little too close. He nods, but we don't understand what he means until he starts to talk. "Well, not that bad. You two seem to be in shape, and when we arrive at the Remake Center… you two will be fine."

In the Games, it always seems if you are good-looking, you will get more sponsors. I've always wondered why the Capitol citizens do that. The ones who are strong and buff get sponsors as well. But if you are not only strong, but attractive as well, you will be showered with gifts.

"How 'bout this, I'll help you, but only if you don't interfere with my drinking," says Haymitch. I sigh in relief, but am rewarded with another added bonus. "But, if you don't follow my directions, and I mean exactly, you two are on your own."

I know he might be drunk as he says this, because abandoning the tributes fully has to be some kind of rule. But I don't question this. There is no telling what Haymitch is capable of. "Deal," I say, extending my arm. His hand is solid yet cold, but I don't flinch.

Peeta looks in my direction, as if his choice was based upon mine. "Alright."

"So, what are the things we should look out for in the arena? We have to get our weapons, but with the bloodbath –" I say, but twice in a row am interrupted by his slur.

"No, not any of that yet. In just a matter of minutes, your stylists and prep team will get a hold of you. You may or may not like what they will do, but try to be polite, and don't resist anything they do." He warns.

"But –" Peeta starts, but Haymitch shakes his head.

"No buts, you will not resist." And just like that, he takes his glass and is out the door.

Peeta and I stand in silence for a bit, and suddenly everything darkens. I realize we are in a tunnel leading into the Capitol. I think about what we will do when we arrive, how the people will look. Will they turn me into some kind of freak with stencil designs on my skin, makeup that covers nearly all of my face. Peeta walks over to the window, looking at nothing but pitch black. "Do you think he'll keep his promise?"

It takes me several moments to realize he is talking about Haymitch, "I don't know."

The only words anyone ever seems to understand.

* * *

><p>All of the sudden, light begins coming in once more. I can't help myself. I race to the windows to see the very place that my eyes have only witnessed on television. The ruling city of Panem is right before me. I notice Peeta comes to the window as well, admiring it's beauty. The crystal-like blue sky, the magnificent glass buildings that stand so tall, the streets filled with the strangely-dressed Capitol citizens.<p>

The ones with what money we make in a year, to them is pocket-change. The ones who can't wait to see us die, every year, can't wait to watch children die for the very sake of their entertainment. The ones who have never gone hungry a day in their lives, that all they care about is themselves. They notice us coming down the streets, and are starting to smile and point. I can't take it, so I start to walk away.

I couldn't imagine Prim among these people, a girl so innocent would be treated the same. Nevertheless. And for once, I think about what would happen if I didn't volunteer. The citizens have everything here, power, wealth, entertainment. What fills their thoughts every day, what do they see when they watch us killing each other through the screen? Do they feel any pity, mercy for those who die? I ask myself these questions, yet I already know the answer. They don't care, they place bets, either win or lose. What would it take to make them see how horrible the Games really are? What would make them cry when they witnessed the deaths? And suddenly, I am struck with an idea.

But I can't think of it right now, because we are being pulled into the Remake Center. The place where I will meet my stylists, my prep team. Another batch of the Capitol's pets. I brace myself as the doors of the train open.

Peeta looks at me quickly, as if he can sense how nervous I am. "It will be over soon." He whispers. And for a moment, I am confused whether he meant the prepping, the Games, or my own life.

* * *

><p>Four hours later, my prep team stands before me, talking quietly to each other. They nod approvingly, smiling as they admire my transformation. I try to be polite and smile back, even though they are irritating me. I've had to put up with complaints and questions on my appearance, and it's been ticking me off. I feel like a time bomb, one more comment and I will explode. <em>Are they all like this? <em>I wonder, _do they not know when to speak up and when to keep quiet? Do they even care about my feelings?_

"Amazing! You look so much better than what _you used _to be!" says Flavius, and I compose myself once more.

"We cannot tolerate a whiner!" adds Octavia, "You have done exceptionally well. Other however don't realize what we do for you tributes! We turn you into something beautiful! But no, some don't see that."

"Well, thank you for all you've done. I know it must be hard to put up with those who complain, but really, I am grateful for all of this," I lie, hoping they won't detect it in my voice, "I take time out of your busy lives, and yet after all you've had to do, you didn't give up on me."

"Sweetie," Venia laughs, "Not even the most hideous person cannot be turned beautiful!"

They all smile at me once more, and I try to analyze whether they believed what I just said. But I don't see nothing except for a permanant grin on their faces. "Your welcome dear," says Octavia.

"We could really do something magnificant with you..." She adds, already in deep thought.

"Yes, yes, something truly special," says Venia dreamily.

"It looks like you are done!" says Flavius, "Let's go get Cinna!"

They all rush out of the room, and I give a sigh of relief. _Why? _I ask myself, _why is it so hard to hate them? Do they even realize what is going on in this world that they live in? When they look into the screen and see all those bloody-gruesome deaths, what do they really see? Is it all a show to them, just a splash of entertainment? _But yet, I can't find it in me to hate them. It's not their fault they were raised and brought up in the Capitol's ways. It's not their fault that they have never missed a meal, did hardly nothing to earn buckets of money that could never be achieved back home, even in a lifetime. But it is not hard to envy what they have, everything we don't.

_But you could..._ I hear a voice in the back of my head, and I toss that thought out. I know I could never win these Games, I will never be a contender. I fee a sudden wave of emotion rush through me, and realize what it is. The very same feeling I got when I jumped to volunteer for Prim. I feel an urge to protect them.

_From what? _I ask myself. They are not in any danger, have no risk of getting hurt. But yet, they are so oblivious, so absent-minded, so happy is it hard not to think of Prim who so resembles those qualities? I know for a fact that Prim is not that oblivious to the world as I would like her to be, but she does her best to shield things out. Like the Games for example. But, she is always happy, always has a spirit that is so hard to trash. My sister, who has cried just because she saw me in tears, who has brightened my day with just one smile. _How is she coping?_

I feel the pain of loss inside my chest, and I know it is because I will never see her again. _Did I really abandon her? _I've noticed I seem to be thinking of her, of home more often. But what I can't find out is whether it is a good thing or a bad thing.

Suddenly, a young man walks in, who I suspect to be Cinna. I'm surprised by how ordinary he appears to be. His eyes are bright, but seem cloudy, as if he is in deep thought. A dark green color with flecks of light in them. But as I look closer, I find that he has a golden eyeliner. All I think of is how absurd the Capitol citizens appear to be, how dyed, stenciled, tattooed, they are. I've never enjoyed their trends, their fashions, and yet here I am, admiring how it brings out them, his eyes.

"Hello Katniss, I'm Cinna. Your stylist," his voice is calm but soft, nothing larger than a whisper. Suddenly, I think of Gale and I hunting in the woods. Unlike Gale, who blurts out everything that goes on in his mind like how horrible the Capitol is, how the Hunger Games should stop, I try to be as cautious as I can about what I say. Even in the middle of nowhere, away from the civilization of District 12, you have to be careful on what you say, for you never know who could be listening, watching.

"Hello," I respond, nodding politely.

He circles around me, not doing anything but examining. I try not to let that uncomfortable feeling settle in, for I know that if it does, I won't be able to trust him. And around here, I do not have much options. "If you don't mind me asking, you did your hair?"

And once again, I think of home, of District 12. "My mother."

"It's lovely," he smiles, though it is fatal. I did not expect someone like him at all. I can't help but note that I've never seen him before, so it must be his first year. I feel pity for him, since he has ended up with us. Everyone wants the wealthier districts, the Career districts. I'm guessing it crossed his mind occasionally.

It's as if he has read my thoughts, "Since it is my first year in the Games, I will make sure my first tribute will be unforgettable." And with that, I smile back.

"Put on a robe, and we'll talk," he instructs.

I slip it on as he guides me into a small but bright room with a glass table in between two plush couches. One side of the room is made up of glass, showing the vast city before me. The sun is directly above the Capitol, shining down on the civilization. I take a seat on one couch, Cinna seating right across from me. He presses a small button on the edge of the table, and just like that, another table rises, carrying what looks to be our lunch.

How it must feel, to live in a place where food is just an asset. Where you know you will never miss a meal, will never starve. Is this how it is everyday? In the Capitol, that is how it works. But back home? You have to fight for food, just like you have to with everything else. Food is scarce, and eating three meals a day is a luxury almost nobody can ever afford. Here however, they eat what they want, whenever they want. They do hardly nothing, and yet they still live like this. What will it take for any of them to see how horrific the situation is? That each day, people are starving in the Districts, but they do nothing about it? And why?

_It's because of how they were raised_, I remind myself. Then, Cinna speaks up, and I can't believe such things came out of his mouth, a citizen of the Capitol, "How despicable we must seem to all of you," he says quietly.

I try to think of something to say, but no words come forward. "Anyways, Katniss, let's discuss your costume for opening ceremonies. I've been discussing it with my partner, Portia, who is a stylist for Peeta. We've been thinking, would you mind if we dressed you two alike?"

_Of course not! _I think, but don't say anything outloud. I pause for a moment, then shake my head. "No, I wouldn't mind."

"Excellent," says Cinna, "You may recall it is... _tradition_," he emphasizes the word, "that the costumes reflect your District."

I do not know if it is required, but tributes almost always dress up in an outfit that represents your district's industry. Since Peeta and I are both from 12, we are to dress in something that suggests coal-mining. I cringe, thinking of the outfits in the previous years. They are never crowd-pleasers, and usually we are avoided when the citizens shout out names and send flowers our way. _What does he have planned_? I think.

"So... I'll be in a coal-miner's outfit?" I ask a little more coldly then I meant to.

Cinna shakes his head, "We think it is too out there. But technically, your District is not with coal-mining, but with coal itself. And may I ask Katniss, what do we do with coal?"

"We put it into the fire," I respond, still not sure where he is headed.

"We _burn it_," he smiles, already hiding a trick up his sleeve, "You don't happen to be scared of fire, do you Katniss?"

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><p><strong>Authors Note: What did you think? Not the best, but I'll revise it later on this week. Review please! Have you guys seen the new buttons? They are awesome! (I haven't been on the site lately...) <strong>

**~Bree**


	5. Conflicted

_**A/N: I actually updated. Go figure. Anyways, The Hunger Games has been out on DVD for a while now, and Catching Fire has started shooting! Sam Claftin is Finnick :) He's cute, but can he pull off the boy with the trident? So, this chapter is shorter than others and is pretty… something if I may say so. :/ But, I finally updated, and I guess that's what counts. Go for it and review, it's free! (Review and you'll get a sneak peek to next chapter!) :)**_

_**~Bree**_

_**Random joke that made me laugh: Girl and boy are at the movies. **_

_**Boy begins to slip his arm around her, and before he knows it, the girl is snuggling up against him. The boy looks at her, puzzled, soda in hand. "I was just reaching for my drink."**_

_**And because I feel like it, here's a random question: What would you do if Peeta Mellark somehow came to life (Hey, dream big. I bet nobody thought we'd ever have a man walk on the moon) and walk right past you at the movies?**_

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, no matter how much I wish I did.<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live. ~Flora Whittemore<em>

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 5: Conflicted<span>**

In just a few hours later, I am dressed in what would appear to be magnificent, but can very well turn deadly. The black pants, the leather boots, they do not worry me. The thing that makes me tense is the cape, full of flames that range from yellow to red to orange, matching the headpiece that makes Cinna's intentions clear. I look at him, trying not to let disbelief register on my face. He sees my expression and grins, "Don't worry Katniss, it's not real flame. Portia and I just came up with a little synthetic fire to make you stand out. You will be fine," says Cinna.

As much as I want to, I cannot believe him. I could be scorched by the time we reach the City Circle. My thoughts turn to Peeta. What will he think of all this? Will he believe his stylist, or agree with me that the second we get a chance, we rip them off before we get burned. Luckily, Cinna let me wear my hair in my usual braid, instead of letting it loose, as well as leaving my face nearly make-up free. He only worked on some highlighting, which, thankfully, is not crazily overdone like some Capitol citizens.

"I want you to be unforgettable," Cinna smiles. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire." I politely thank him, forcing myself to smile. But if Cinna is as good as reading expressions as he has been doing, he knows I am still worried.

A few minutes later, Peeta shows up along with Portia and her prep team. I am grateful we are in similar costumes. He looks at me for a moment, his eyes asking what words cannot come out of his mouth. _What do we do?_ I take a deep breath and try to relax, trying to turn my thoughts away from the fact that I could be burned alive at any moment. Our prep team and stylists are bursting with excitement, already discussing how we will outshine all the other competition. They are absolutely giddy, and it sickens me. Yet I do not show it. The only person who seems to have a sense of what composure is like is Cinna. It may be his calm attitude, or the fact that he doesn't want all the attention. Either way, he seems a bit jaded as he thanks everyone for their contribution.

We all pile into an elevator that takes us all the way to the bottom floor of the Remake Center. It is a huge stable, with horses that will pull the chariot during the Opening Ceremonies tonight. The animals are trained, they do not need anyone to guide them. I've never had a particular bond with animals. It's usually Prim who seems to gain their trust quicker. I smile as I remember the first time I taught her how to hunt. She hates seeing anyone hurt, so imagine the reaction she had on when I shot a rabbit. It will do no good to teach her if she does not want to learn. The whole point in me hunting is to kill animals so we can have food.

We are put into a chariot with four horses as black as night by Cinna and Portia. They move us carefully, assembling a certain body position, adjusting our outfit one last time, and then they walk away to talk in private. I turn to Peeta, who does not appear nervous in facial expression, but I can see it in his eyes that he is worried.

I whisper to him softly, making sure no one else can hear. "What do you think about the fire?"

He pauses for a moment, then responds, "If you rip off mine, I'll rip yours." he extends out his hand, and I shake it gratefully.

"I know part of our deal with Haymitch was that we don't complain, to follow their orders, but I don't think he thought of something like this. Can they do that?" I ask, then restate it, "Can they hurt us, even if we are severely injured?"

"You saw the boy from district 10," Peeta whispers, then shakes his head. "they don't care, they'll throw us in no matter what. By the way, where is Haymitch?"

"I have no idea. Probably passed out somewhere," I force myself to smile.

"Are you really that worried?" asks Peeta, looking concerned.

"Yes," I say, caught off guard.

Right on cue, the opening music starts to play. Large doors open before us, revealing the streets full of Capitol citizens. They saw us during the Reaping, but they don't know us, not really. We are required to treat the Games as a festivity, but we can't do that unless we know a little bit more about the tributes. All this, the Opening Ceremonies, the Interview, even our training score will show the crowd who we are. Right now, I cannot worry about my strategy in the Games, my resources, my weapon. Right now, it is time to make an impression. One that will either save my life, or leave me to perish.

* * *

><p>District 1 rolls out first and I can already hear the roar of the crowd. The Career districts are always the Capitol's favorites. They are the bold ones, the ones that don't even hesitate to smile or wave or shout something to the citizens that makes them swoon. There are others too, in different districts, the ones who want all the glorified attention. And some who just fade into the background, the ones who get one or two moments of screen time and are merely forgotten, until the Interviews or even the actual Games. But usually it's your costumes that make you stand out. District 1 is no exception; they will surely get plenty of time on camera. The ones, despite their attitude, are not of focus.<p>

District 11 is barely riding out when out of nowhere Cinna shows up, his hand holding a lighted torch. Before Peeta and I can do anything, he lights our capes on fire. I flinch, waiting for the heat, calm at first then by the moment getting hotter and hotter. But it doesn't come. I open my eyes and find Cinna smiling at us. "See, perfectly safe," He says it to both of us, but his eyes are focused on mine. "Stand tall, be proud! Smile, wave, and don't worry. The crowd will love you!"

Cinna steps off the chariot, but then stops. He turns around and yells, but the music drowns him out. We are already rolling out when he gestures and Peeta catches on. "I think he's saying hold hands."

Peeta's hand grabs mine, and for a second I do not think this is real. _This can't be right, _I think, but Cinna looks over to us and smiles, giving a thumbs up. I don't say anything; don't do anything except whisper a silent _thank you_ to in all the years of knowing Peeta Mellark, I never worked up the nerve to talk to him, much less hold his hand. But here we are, about to be thrown into the Hunger Games, holding hands all because of Cinna. I can't help but laugh at the thought. Peeta looks at me strangely, but then smiles. It may be nerves, or just the knowledge of what little time I have left, but I let myself enjoy this moment, the feel of his hand, warm and callused, wrapped around mine.

We enter the city; the crowd suddenly stops and sees our costumes. For a split second, they do not do anything, as if time has frozen. Then, their attention transfers over to us, and all I can hear is them cheering, "District 12!" We are the center of attention. Cinna was right, we will not be that easy to forget. I see Peeta already smiling at the crowd, and I catch the fire glowing in his eyes. In this evening, with the sky fading into a luminous night, we are literally glowing. I compose myself, raise my left hand and start to wave, flashing them my most dazzling smile.

The crowd is ecstatic, throwing lovely flowers our way and even shouting our names. Suddenly, I feel something inside me go off, like a spark of fire. I feel my confidence rising, and before I know it I am actually winking at the cameras and blowing kisses to the crowd. I feel myself rising up, and for a second, I allow myself to drift off, to wonder. With the right impressions, the right weapon, I could at least stand a chance. _Why put myself down? _I think, and then something hits me.

If I am to get Peeta out of these Games, out of this arena, I have to believe I can get myself out first. This low self-esteem, it has to end now. I can't allow myself to think of the possibility of winning, but I need to stop thinking about my death. I have to have the confidence the audience is looking for, the glimmer, the untouchable fire. If I die right away, I cannot help Peeta, I could not protect him if he is to be injured. And I at least owe it to him to try.

To help him try to get it out of this hellhole, to get out of the Games alive. I cannot let myself get killed, I must be a contender. As if right on cue, my thoughts turn to the one thought that has never crossed my mind: _We must be the final two._With that assurance, I know he will make it out alive, that he will not be killed if I die too soon. My thoughts turn to Gale, to Prim, to my mother. Will that hurt them? If there is one thing I will regret doing while in the Games, is hurt them. If I make it that far, will it give them too much hope that I may come home?

How can I kill myself for Peeta's sake without killing their spirits? It's not possible, it's one or the other. I cannot have both. That only leaves one question: Which one do I want _more?_

I love Peeta, I always have, I always will. But is it enough to die for him? The kind boy who tossed me the bread, who gave me hope. The one person who reminded me that my life was not over, that I could make it through. I tune that thought out, for I know that decision has already been made. Right after the first day of school in the courtyard, right after he smiled at me after I stood up to sing the valley song. Right before I left, he called my name. I barely heard it, but it was enough for me to turn around to find him, holding a small but delicate dandelion in his hand out to me. We said nothing, did nothing, but smile one last time.

And that is when I know I will do everything in my power to see to it he makes it out alive.

Even if it means I don't.

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><p><strong>AN:** **Thanks for reading! Any questions, comments, or suggests, feel free to speak up, review or PM. Can we get up to 70? If so, that would be awesome. **

**Always and indefinitely,**

**~Bree **


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